
GIass_rZIlfc__ 



Book 



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RADA 



BY THE SAME AUTHOR 

TALES OP THE MEBMAID TAVEBN 

DRAKE 

THE FOREST OP WILD THYME 

FORTY SINGING SEAMEN 

THE ENCHANTED ISLAND 

THE WINE PRESS 



RADA 

A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

BY 

ALFRED NOYES 



WITH FOUR ILLUSTKATlOiVS AFTER GOYA 



METHUEN & GO. LTD. 

36 ESSEX STREET W.G. 

LONDON 






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First Published in 1Q15 



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DEDICATION 

Thou whose deep ways are in the sea, 
Whose footsteps are not known. 

To-night a world that turned from Thee 
Is waiting — ^at Thy Throne. 

The towering Babels that we raised 
Where scoffing sophists brawl, 

The little Antichrists we praised — 
The night is on them all. 

The fool hath said . . . The fool hath said . 

And we, who deemed him wise, 
We, who believed that Thou wast dead, 

How should we seek Thine eyes ? 

How should we seek to Thee for power, 
Who scorned Thee yesterday ? 

How should we kneel in this dread hour? 
Lord, teach us how to pray. 

V 



KADA 

Grant us the single heart once more 
That mocks no sacred thing, 

The Sword of Truth our fathers wore 
When Thou wast Lord and King. 

Let darkness unto darkness tell 
Our deep unspoken prayer ; 

For, while our souls in darkness dwell, 
We know that Thou art there. 



VI 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



THE BAYONETS. . . Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 
OVER THE JAWS OP THE CROWD . . 16 



THE OLD DANCE OF CHARLATANS AND 

BEASTS . . . . .22 

THE VAMPIRE . . . . .56 

Reproduced from etchings by Goya 



Vll 



PRELUDE 

Under which banner? It was night 
Beyond all nights that ever were. 

The Cross was broken. Blood-stained 
Might 
Moved like a tiger from its lair, 

And all that heaven had died to quell 

Awoke, and mingled earth with hell. 

For Europe, if it held a creed, 

Held it thro custom, not thro' faith. 

Chaos returned in dream and deed, 
Right was a legend — Love, a wraith; 

And That from which the world began 

Was less than even the best in man. 

B 1 



PRELUDE 

God in the image of a snake 

Dethroned that dream, too fond, too 
blind, 
The man-shaped God whose heart could 
break, 
Live, die and triumph with mankind ; 
A Super-snake, a Juggernaut, 
Dethroned the Highest of human 
thought. 



Choose, England ! For the eternal foe 

Within thee, as without, grew strong. 
By many a super-subtle blow 

Blurring the lines of right and 
wrong 
In Art and Thought, till nought seemed 

true 
But that soul-slaughtering cry of 
New! 

2 



PRELUDE 

New wreckage of the shrines we made 
Thro' centuries of forgotten tears. . . . 

We knew not where their hands had laid 
Our Master. Twice a thousand years 

Had dulled the uncapricious sun. 

Manifold worlds obscured the One ; 

Obscured the reign of Law, our stay, 
Our compass thro' the uncharted sea, 

The one sure light, the one sure way, 
The one firm base of Liberty ; 

The one firm road that men have trod 

Thro' Chaos to the Throne of God. 

Choose ye ! A hundred legions cried 
Dishonour, or the instant sword ! 

Ye chose. Ye met that blood-stained tide, 
A little kingdom kept its word ; 

And, dying, cried across the night, 

Hear us, O earth, ive chose the Right. 
3 



PRELUDE 

Whose is the victory? Though ye 
stood 
Alone against the unmeasured foe, 
By all the tears, by all the blood. 

That flowed, and have not ceased to 
flow, 
By all the legions that ye hurled 
Back thro' the thunder-shaken world ; 

By the old that have not where to 
rest, 
By lands laid waste and hearths 
defiled, 
By every lacerated breast, 

And every mutilated child. 
Whose is the victory? Answer, ye 
Who, dying, smiled at tyranny : — 

Under the sJcys triumphal arch 
The glories of the dawn begin. 

4: 



PRELUDE 

Our dead, our shadowy armies, anarch 

E'en noiv, in silence, thro' Berlin — 
Dumb shadows, tattered blood-stained 

ghosts. 
But cast by what swift following hosts ! 

And answer, England ! A t thy side. 
Thro' seas of blood, thro 7nists of 
tears. 

Thou that for Liberty hast died 
And livest, to the end of years. 

And answer, earth ! Far off, I hear 

The paeans of a happier sphere : — 

The trumpet bloivn at Marathon 

Exulted over earth and sea : 
But burning angel lips have bloivn 

The trumpets of thy Liberty, 
For who, beside thy dead, could deem 
The faith, for which they died, a dream i 
5 



PRELUDE 

Earth has not been the sajne, since then. 

Europe frorn thee received a soul, 
Whence nations moved in laiv, like men, 

As members of a mightier ivhole, 
Till wars ivere ended. ... In that day, 
So shall our children's children say. 



CHARACTERS 

Rada, wife of the village doctor. 
Bettine, her daughter, aged twelve. 

{German soldiers quartered in her 
house during the occupation 
of the village. 
Nanko, an old, half-witted schoolmaster, 
living in the care of the doctor. He 
has a delusion that it is always Christmas 
Eve. 
German soldiers. 



RADA 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

The action takes place in a Belgian 
village, during the War of 1914. 
The scene is a room in the doctor's 
house. On the right there is a 
door opening to the street, a win- 
dow with red curtains, and a desk 
under the window. On the left 
there is a large cupboard with a 
door on either side of it, one 
leading to a bedroom and the 
other to the kitchen. At the back 
an open fire is burning b7'ightly. 
Over the fireplace there is a repro- 
duction in colours of the Dresden 
9 



RADA 

Madonna. The room is lit only 
by the firelight and two candles in 
brass candlesticks, on a black oak 
table, at tvhich the tivo soldiers are 
seated, playing cards and drinking 
beer. 

Rada, a dark handsome woman, sits 
on a couch to the left of the fire, 
tvith he7' head bowed in her hands, 
iveeping. 

Nanko sits cross-legged on a rug before 
the fire, rubbing his hands, snapping 
his fingers, and chuckling to himself. 

Tarrasch {throwing doton the cards). 

Pish ! You have all the luck. {He 
turns to Rada) Look here, my girl, 
where is the use of snivelling? We've 
been killing pigs all day and now we 
want to unbuckle a bit. You ought 
10 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

to think yourself infernally lucky to 
be alive at all, and I'm not sure that 
you will be so fortunate when the 
other boys come back. Wheedled them 
out of the house finely, didn't you? 
On a fine wildgoose chase, too. Hidden 
money ! Refugees don't bury their 
money and leave the secret behind 
them. You've been whimpering ever 
since we two refused to believe you. 
What's your game, eh ? I warn you 
there'll be hell to pay when they come 
back. 

Rada {sobbing and burying her' face). 
God, be pitiful ! 

Tarrasch. 

This is war, this is ! And you can't 

expect war to be all swans and shining 

armour. No — nor smart uniforms either. 

11 



RADA 

Look at the mud my friend and I 
have already annexed from Belgium. 
Brander, you know it's a most aston- 
ishing fact; but I have remarked it 
several times. Those women whose 
eyes glitter at the sight of a spiked 
helmet are the first to be astonished 
by the realities of war. They expect 
the dead to jump up and kiss them 
and tell them it is all a game, as 
soon as the battle is ended. No, no, 
my dear ; it's only in war that one 
sees how small is one's personal happi- 
ness in comparison with greater things. 
Isn't it? 

{He fills a glass and drinks. 
Brander lights a cigar.) 

Nanko. 
Exactly. In times of peace we for- 
get those eternal silences. We value 
12 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

life too highly. We become domesti- 
cated. Why, I suppose in this mag- 
nificent war there have been so many 
women and children killed that they 
would fill the great Cloth Hall at 
Ypres ; and, as for the young men, 
there have been so many slaughtered 
that their dead bodies would fill St. 
Peter's at Rome. Why, I suppose they 
would fill the three hundred abbeys of 
Flanders and all the cathedrals in the 
world chock-full from floor to belfry, 
wouldn't they? How Goya would have 
loved to paint them ! Can't you see it ? 

{He groivs ecstatic over the idea.) 

Tournai with its five clock-towers, 

Ghent, and Bruges, 
Louvain and Antwerp, Rheims and 

Westminster, 

13 



RADA 

Under the round white moon, on Christ- 
mas Eve, 

With towers of frozen needlework, and 
spires 

That point to God ; but all their 
painted panes 

Bursting with dreadful arms and gap- 
ing faces. 

Gargoyles of flesh ; and round them, in 
the snow, 

The little cardinals, like gouts of blood, 

The little bishops, running like white 
mice, 

Hooded with violet spots, quite, quite 
dismayed 

To find there was no room for them 
within 

Upon that holy night when Christ was 
born. 

But perhaps if Goya were living to- 
14 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

day he would prefer to pack them into 
Chicago meat factories, with the in- 
tellectuals dancing outside like marion- 
ettes, and the unconscious Hand of God 
pulling the strings. You know one of 
their very latest theories is that He is 
a somnambulist. 

Tarrasch {to Rada). 
You should read Schopenhauer, my 
dear, and learn to estimate these 
emotions at their true value. You 
would then be able to laugh at these 
feelings which seem to you now so 
important. It is the mark of Kultur 
to be able to laugh at all sentiments. 
Isn't it? 

Nanko. 
The priests, I suppose, are still balancing 
themselves on the tight-rope, over the 
15 



RADA 

jaws of the crowd. The poor old Pope 
did his best for his Master, when the 
Emperor asked him for a blessing on the 
war. " / bless Peace," said the Pope ; 
but nobody listened. I composed a little 
poem about that. I called it St. Peter's 
Christmas. It went like this : — 



And does the Cross of Christ still stand? 

Yes, though His friends may watch 
from far — 
And who is this at His right hand, 

This Rock in the red surf of war? 

This, this is he who once denied. 

And turned and wept and turned 
again. 
Last night before an Emperor's pride 
He stood and blotted out that stain. 
16 



mmmsswT?' 




A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

Last night an Emperor bared the sword 
And bade him bless. He stood alone. 

Alone in all the world, his word 

Confessed — and blessed — a loftier 
throne. 

I hear, still travelling towards the Light, 
In widening waves till Time shall 
cease, 
The Power that breathed from Rome 
last night 
His infinite whisper — / bless Peace. 
(Tarrasch and Brander applaud 
ironically.) 

Tarrasch. 
Excellent! Excellent! {To Rada) 
You should have seen our^ brave 
soldiers laughing — do you remember, 
Brander — at a little village near Ter- 
monde. They made the old vicar and 
c 17 



RADA 

his cook dance naked round the dead 
body of his wife, who had connived 
at the escape of her daughter from a 
Prussian officer. 

Nanko. 
Ah, that was reality, wasn't it ? None 
of your provincial respectability about 
that, none of your shallow convention- 
ality ! That's what the age wants — 
realism ! 

Tarrasch. 

It was brutal, I confess ; but better 
than British hypocrisy, eh ? There was 
something great about it, like the 
neighing of the satyrs in the Venus - 
berg music. 

Rada {sinking on her knees by the 
couch and sobbing). 

God! God! 

18 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

Tabrasch. 
They were beginning to find out the 
provincialism of their creeds in England. 
The pessimism of Schopenhauer had 
taught them much ; and if it had not 
been for this last treachery, this last 
ridiculous outburst of the middle-class 
mind on behalf of what they call honour, 
we should have continued to tolerate (if 
not to enjoy), in Berlin, those plays by 
Irishmen which expose so w^ittily the 
inferior Kultur, the shrinking from 
reality, of their (for the most part) 
not intellectual people. I have the 
honour, madam, to request that you 
should no longer make this unpleasant 
sound of weeping. You irritate my 
nerves. Have you not two men quar- 
tered upon you instead of one? And 
are they not university students? If 
19 



RADA 

your husband and the rest of the 
villagers had not resisted our advance, 
they might have been alive, too. In 
any case, your change is for the 
better. Isn't it? 

{He lights a cigar.) 
Nanko. 

Exactly ! Exactly ! You remember, 
Rada, I used to be a schoolmaster my- 
self in the old days ; and if you knew 
what / know, you wouldn't cry, my 
dear. You'd understand that it's entirely 
a question of the survival of the fittest. 
A biological necessity, that's what it 
is. And Haeckel himself has told us 
that, though we may resign our hopes 
of immortality, and the grave is the 
only future for our beloved ones, yet 
there is infinite consolation to be 
20 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

found in examining a piece of moss or 
looking at a beetle. That's what the 
Germans call the male intellect. 

Tarrasch. 
Is this man attempting to be insolent ? 

{He rises as if to strike Nanko.) 

Brander {tapping his forehead). 

Take no notice of him. He's only 
a resident patient. He was not calling 
you a beetle. He has delusions. He 
thinks it is always Christmas Eve. 
That's his little tree in the corner. As 
Goethe should have said — 

There was a little Christian. 
He had a little tree. 
Up came a Superman 
And cracked him, like a flea. 

ai 



RADA 

Tarrasch {laughing). 

Very good ! You should send that to 
the Tageblatt, Brander. 

Well, Rada, or whatever your name 
is, you'd better find something for us 
to eat. I'm sick of this whimpering. 

Wouldn't your Belgian swine have 
massacred us all, if we'd given them 
the chance ? We've thousands of women 
and children at home snivelling and 
saying, " Oh ! my God ! Oh ! my God ! " 
just like you. 

Rada {rising to her feet in a fury of 
contempt). 

Then why are you in Belgium, gentlemen ? 
Is it the husks and chaff that the 

swine eat. 
Or is it simply butchery ? 

{They stare at her in silence, over- 
22 




'i is 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

mastered for a moment by her 
passion. Then, her grief ivelling 
up again, she casts herself doion 
on the couch, and buries her face 
in her hands, sobbing.) 

God ! God ! God ! 

Brander. 

Don't you trouble about God. What 
can He do when both sides go down 
on their marrow-bones ? He can't make 
both sides win, can He ? 

Nanko. 
That's how the intellectuals prove He 
doesn't exist. Either He is not almighty, 
they say, or else He is unjust enough not 
to make both sides win. But all those 
anthropomorphic conceptions are out of 
date now, even in England, as this 
23 



RADA 

gentleman very truly said. You see, it 
was so degrading-, Rada, to think that 
God had anything in common with 
mankind (though love was once quite 
fashionable), and as we didn't know of 
anything higher than ourselves we were 
simply compelled to say that He re- 
sembled something lower, such as earth- 
quakes, and tigers, and puppet-shows, 
and ideas of that sort. Reality above 
all things ! You may see God in 
sunsets ; but there was nothing real 
about the best qualities of mankind. 
It's curious. The more intellectual and 
original you are, the lower you have to 
go, and the more likely you are to 
end in the old dance of charlatans and 
beasts. I suppose that's an argument 
for tradition and growth. If we call it 
Evolution, nobody will mind very much. 
24 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

Rada {wringing her hands in an 
agony of grief ). 

Oh, God, be pitiful, be pitiful ! 

Brander {standing in fi-ont of her). 

Look here, we've had enough of this 
music. I've been watching you, and 
there's more upon your mind than 
sorrow for the dead. Why were you 
so anxious to wheedle us all out of the 
house ? Tarrasch has warned you 
there'll be hell to pay when the others 
come back. What was the game, eh ? 
You'd better tell me. You couldn't have 
thought you were going to escape 
through our lines to-night. 

{There is a sudden uproar outside^ 
and a woman's scream, followed by 
the ter'iHfied cry of a child.) 

Ah ! Ah ! Father ! 
25 



RADA 

Brander. 

Hear that. The men are mad with 
brandy and blood and — other things. 
There's no holding them in, even from 
the children. You needn't wince. Even 
from the children, I say. What chance 
would there be for a fine-looking wench 
like yourself? 

No, you were not going to try that. 
You've something to hide, here, in the 
house, eh? Well, now you've got rid of 
the others, and we've had a drink, 
we're going to look for it. What is 
there ? 

{He points to the bedi^oom door.) 

Rada {rising to her feet sloivly, steadying 
herself ivith one hand on the couch 
and fixing her eyes on his face). 

My bedroom. No. I've nothing here 
26 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

to hide. This is war, isn't it? If I 
choose to revenge myself on those 
that have used me badly, people 
that I hate, by telling you where you 
can find what everybody wants, money, 
money — I suppose you want that — isn't 
that good enough ? 

Brander. 
Better come with us, then, and show 
us this treasure-trove. 

Rada {shrinking back). 
No, no, I dare not. All those dead 
out there would terrify me, terrify me ! 

Tarrasch. 
A pack of lies ! What were you up to, 
eh ? Telephoning to the English ? 

Brander. 
It has been too much for her nerves. 

27 



RADA 

Don't worry her, or she'll go mad. 

Then there'll be nobody left to get us 

our supper. 

(Tarrasch wanders round the room, 
opening drawers and examining 
letters and other contents at the 
desk.) 

Nanko. 

That ivould be selfish, Rada. You 
know it's Christmas Eve. Nobody 
ought to think of unpleasant things on 
Christmas Eve. What have you done 
with the Christmas-tree, Rada? 

Brander. 

And who's to blame? That's what I 

want to know. You don't blame us, 

do you ? We didn't know where we 

w ere marching a month ago ; and 

28 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

possibly we shall be fighting on your 
side against somebody else, a year 
hence. 

Nanko. 

Of course they didn't know ! Poor 
soldiers don't. 

Tarrasch (who has been trying the 
bedroom door). 

In the meantime, what have you got 
behind that door? Give me the key. 

Rada {hurriedly, and as if misunder- 
standing him,, opens the cupboard. She 
speaks excitedly). 

Food ! Food ! Food for hungry men. 
Food enough for a wolf pack. Come on. 
Help yourselves ! 

29 



RADA 

Tarrasch, 

Look, Brander ! What a larder ! 
Here's a dinner for forty men. Isn't it? 

Rada. 

Better take your pick before the 
others come. 

{She thrusts dishes into Brander's 
hands and loads Tarrasch loith 
bottles. They lay the table with 
them, Rada seemiiig to share their 
eagerness.) 

Brander {looking at his hands). 
Here ! Bring me a basin of warm 
water. There are times when you 
can't touch food without washing your 
hands. 

(Rada hesitates, then goes into the 
30 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

kitchen. Brander holds out a 
ring to Tarrasch.) 

Her husband's ring, I got it off his 

finger 
When he went down. He lay there, 

doubled up, 
With one of those hideous belly 

wounds. He begged, 
Horribly, for a bullet ; so, poor devil, 
I put him out of his misery. I can't 

eat 
With hands like that. Ugh ! Look ! 

Nanko {rising and peering at them). 
Ah, but they're red. 
Red, aren't they? And there's red on 
your coat, too. 

{He fingers it curiously.) 

I suppose that's blood, eh ? People 
are such cowards. 
31 



RADA 

Many of them never seem to understand 
That man's a fighting animal. They're 

afraid, 
Dreadfully afraid, of the sight of blood. 
I think it's a beautiful colour, 

beautiful ! 
You know, in the Old Testament, 

they used 
To splash it on the door-posts. 

Brandeb {pushing him away). 

Go and sit down. 
You crazy old devil ! 

(Rada enters with a bowl of water, 
sets it on a chair, and returns to 
the couch. Brander washes his 
hands.) 

Tarrasch. 

My hands want washing, too. 
32 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

My God, you've turned the water into 

wine. 
Get me some fresh. 

(Rada approaches, stares at the howl, 
and moves hack, sivaying a little.) 

Brander (roughly). 
I'll empty it. Give it to me. 
{He goes out.) 

Nanko. 
The Old Testament, you know, is full 

of it. 
Who is this, it says, that cometh from 

Edom, 
In dyed garments from Bozrah ? It was 

blood 
That dyed their garments. And in 

Revelation 
Blood came out of the wine-press, till 

it splashed 
D 33 



RADA 

The bridles of the horses ; and the seas 
Were all turned into blood. Doesn't 

that show 
That man's a fighting animal ? 

Tarrasch {again fumhling at the bed- 
room door). 

Give me the key. 

Rada {thrusting herself between him and 

the door.) 

That is my bedroom. You must not 

go in. 

Tarrasch. 

Are they so modest, then, in Belgium, 

madam ? 
You're fooling us. What is it? Loot? 

More loot ? 
The family stocking, eh? 

(Brander enters. He goes to the 
table and begins eating.) 
34 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

Nanko. 

The stocking? No! 
The stocking is in the chimney-corner, 
see. 
{He shakes an empty stocking that 
hangs in the fire-place.) 

Bettine and I, we always hang it up 
Ready for Santa Claus. It's a good 

custom. 
They do it in Germany. The children 

there 
Believe that Santa Claus comes down 

the chimney. 

Tarrasch. 

If I know anything of women's eyes, 
It's either money, or a daughter, Rada. 
And so — the key ! Or else I hurst the 
door. 

35 



RADA 

Rada {looks at him for a Tnoment before 

speaking). 
I throw myself upon your mercy, then. 
It is my little girl. She is twelve years 

old. 
Don't wake her. She has slept all 

through this night. 
I thought I might have hidden her. 

It's too late. 
It's of the other men that I'm afraid. 
Not you. But they are drunk. If they 

come back. . . . 
Help me to save her ! I'll do anything 

for you, 
Anything ! Only help me to get her 

away ! 
I'll pray for you every night of my 

life. I'll pray. . . . 

(She stretches out her hands pitifully 
and begins to tceep. The men stand 
36 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

staring at her. The door opens 
behind hei', and Bettine, in her 
night-dress, steals into the room.) 

Bettine. 
Mother Oh ! 

{She stops at the sight of the strangers.) 

Brander. 

Don't be afraid. I'm Nanko's friend. 
What ? Don't you know me ? I came 
down the chimney. 

Bettine. 
I don't see any soot upon your face. 

(*S^^e goes nearer.) 

Nor on your clothes. That's red paint, 
isn't it? 

37 



RADA 

Brander. 

Can't help it. Santa Claus — that is my 

name. 
What's yours? 

Bettine. 
Bettine. 

Brander. 

Ah ! I've a little girl 
At home — about your age, too — called 
Bettine. 

Bettine {who has been watching him 

curiously). 

I know. You are the British. Mother 

said 
The British would be here before the 

Boches. 
I dreamed that you were coming, and 
I thought 

38 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

I heard the inarching. Weren't you 

singing, too ? 
It made me feel so happy in my sleep. 
What were you singing ? " It's a long, 

long way 
To ' what d'you call it ? Tipperary ? 

eh? 
What does that mean? 

Brander. 

A place a long way off. 

Bettine. 
As far as heaven? 

Brander. 

Almost as far as — home. 

Bettine. 
Well, I suppose it means the Boches 

must march 
A long, long way before they reach 
it, eh? 

39 



RADA 

There's Canada. They'll have to march 

through that. 
Then India, and that's huge. Why, 

Nanko says 
There are three hundred million people 

there, 
And all their soldiers ride on elephants. 
Poor Boches ! I'm sorry for them. 

Nanko says 
They're trying to ride across two 

thousand years 
In motor-cars. It's easy enough to 

ride 
Two thousand miles ; but not two 

thousand years. 

(She runs to the stocking and exam- 
ines it. Tarrasch and Brander 
7-etui-n to the table and eat and 
drink.) 

40 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

There's nothing in the stocking. 

Never mind, 
Nanko, when Christmas really comes, 

you'll see. 

{With a sudden note of fear in her 
voice.) 
Mother, where's father ? 

Rada {putting an arm round her). 

He will soon be with us. 
It's all right, darling. 

Bettine. 
Mother, mayn't we try 
The new tunes on the gramophone ? 

Nanko. 

Now, wait ! 

I've an idea. It's Christmas Eve, you 
know. 

We'll celebrate it. Where's the Christ- 
mas-tree ? 

41 



RADA 

We'll get that ready first. 

(Bbttine pulls the little Christmas- 
tree out from the corner. Rada 
glances from, the child to the w,en, 
as if hoping that her play will win 
them to help her.) 

Bettine. 

It's nearly a week, 
Isn't it, Nanko, since you had your tree ? 

Brander. 
Here, put it on the table. 

Nanko {clapping his hands). 

Yes, that's best. 
I fear that we shall want a new tree, 

soon. 
This one is withered. See how the 
needles drop. 

^12 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

There's no green left. It's growing old, 

Bettine. 
What shall we hang on it? 

Tarrasch. 

What d' you think 
Of that now ? {He hangs his revolver 
on the tree.) 

Bettine (laughing merrily). 
Oh ! Oh ! What a great big pistol ! 
That'll be father's present! And now 
what elseV 

Nanko (eagerly). 
What else? 

Brander. 
Well, what do you say to a ring, 

Bettine ? 
How prettily it hangs upon the bough ! 
Isn't that fine? (He hangs the ring 
upon the tree.) 

43 



RADA 

Bettine {staring at it). 
It's just like father's ring ! 

Tarrasch. 
Now light the candles. Isn't it? 

Nanko {clapping his hands and capering). 

Yes, that's right ! 

Light all the little candles on the tree ! 

Oh, doesn't the pistol shine, doesn't the 

ring 

Glitter ! 

Bettine. 

But oh, it is like father's ring. 

He had a little piece of mother's hair 

Plaited inside it, just like that. It is 

My father's ring. 

Rada. 
No ; there are many others, 
Bettine, just like it, hundreds, hundreds 
of others. 

44 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

Brander. 
And now — what's in that package over 
there ? 

Bettine. 
Oh, that's the new tunes for the 

gramophone. 
That's father's Christmas present to us 
all. 

Nanko. 
Now, what a wonderful man the doctor 



was 



Nobody else, in these parts, would have 

thought 
Of buying a gramophone. Let's open 

it. 

Bettine. 

Yes ! Yes ! And we'll give father a 

surprise ! 
It shall be playing a tune when he 

comes in ! 

45 



RADA 

He won't be angry, will he, mumsy 
dear? 

(Brander opens the package. Nanko 
rubs his hands in delight. They 
get the gramophone ready.) 

Nanko. 

Oh, this will be a merry Christmas Eve. 

There now — just see how this kind 
gentleman 

Has opened the package for us. Now 
you see 

The good of war. It benefits the health. 

Sets a man up. Look at old Peter's legs. 

He's a disgrace to the village, a dis- 
grace ! 

Nobody shoots him either, so he spoils 

Everything ; for you know, you must 
admit, 

46 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

Bettine, that war means natural 

selection — 
Survival of the fittest, don't you see? 
For instance, / survive, and you survive : 
Don't we? So Peter shouldn't spoil it 

all. 
They say that all the tall young men 

in France 
Were killed in the Napoleonic wars, 
So that most Frenchmen at the present 

day 
Are short and fat. Isn't that funny, 

Bettine ? 

{She laughs.) 

Which shows us that tall men are not 

required 
To-day. So nobody knows. Perhaps 

thin legs 
Like Peter's Tnay be useful, after all, 
47 



RADA 

In aeroplanes, or something. Every 
ounce 

Makes a great difference there. Nobody- 
knows. 

It's natural selection. See, Bettine? 

Ah, now the gramophone's ready. Make 
it play 

A Christmas tune. That's what the 
churches do 

On Christmas Eve : for all the churches 
now, 

And all the tall cathedrals with their 
choirs. 

What do you think they are, Bettine ? 
I'll tell you. 

I'll whisper it. They're great big gramo- 
phones ! 

{She laughs.) 

Now for a Christmas tune ! 
48 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

Tarrasch {adjusting a record). 

There's irony 
In your idea, my friend, that would 

deUght 
The ghost of Nietzsche ! Certainly, it 

shall play 
A Christmas tune. Here is the very 
thing. 

{There is an uproar of drunken shouts 
in the distance. Brander locks the 
outer door.) 

Bettine. 
The inn is full of drunken men to-night, 
Mother. D' you hear them ? Mother, 

was it an inn 
Like that — the one that's in my Christ- 
mas piece ? 

Brander {to Tarrasch). 
Don't do it, we've had irony enough. 
E 49 



RADA 

Don't start it playing, if you want t< 

keep 
This Christmas party to ourselves, m; 

boy. 
The men are mad with drink, and- 

other things. 
Look here, Tarrasch, what are W( 

going to do 
About this youngster, eh ? 

Tarrasch. 

Better keep quie 

Till morning. When the men have slep 

it off 

They'll stand a better chance of slipping 

away. 

They're all drunk, officers and men ai 

well. 

Brander. 

That's the most merciful thing thai 

one can say. 

50 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

Nanko. 

Oh, what a pity! I did think, Bettine, 

That we should have some music. Well 
— I know I 

Tell us the Christmas piece you learned 
in school. 

That's right. Stand there ! No, stand 
up on this bench. 

Your mother tells me that you won 
the prize 

For learning it so beautifully, Bettine. 

That's right. Now, while you say it, I 
will stand 

Here, with a candle. See, that illus- 
trates 

The scene. 

{He lifts one of the candles to illu- 
minate the picture of the Madonna 
51 



RADA 

and child. For a unoment he 
speaks with a curious dignity.) 

You know it is not all delusion 
About this Christmas Eve. The wise 

men say 
That Time is a delusion. Now then, 

speak 
Your Christmas piece. 

Bettine {with her hands behind her, as 
if in school, she obeys him). 

She laid Him in a manger, because 
there was no room for them in the inn. 

And there were in the same country 
shepherds abiding in the field, keeping 
watch over their flock by night, 

And lo, the angel of the Lord came 
upon them, and the glory of the Lord 
shone round about them, and they were 
sore afraid. 

52 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

And the angel said unto them, " Fear 
not : for behold I bring you good tidings 
of great joy, which shall be to all 
people. 

" For unto you is born this day in the 
City of David a Saviour, which is Christ 
the Lord. 

" And this shall be a sign unto you ; ye 
shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling 
clothes, lying in a manger." 

And suddenly there was with the angel 
a multitude of the heavenly host, prais- 
ing God, and saying : — 

" Glory to God in the Highest, and on 
earth peace. ..." 

{There is silence for a moment, then a 
pistol-shot, a scream, and a roar of 
drunken laughter zvithout, followed 
by a furious pounding on the door. 
Bettine runs to her mother.) 
53 



RADA 

Brander. 

Here, Tarrasch, what the devil are we 

to do 
About this child ? 

{He calls through the door.) 

Clear out of this ! The house 
Is full. We want to sleep. 

{The uproar grows outside, and the 
pounding is resumed. There is a 
crash of broken glass at the 
window.) 

Bettine. 

Mother, I'm frightened ! 
It is the Boches ! Mother, it is the 

Boches ! 
Where are the British, mother? You 

said the British 
Were sure to be here first ! 
54 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

Brander. 

Bundle the child 
Into that room, woman, at once ! 

(Rada snatches the revolver from the 
Christmas-ti'ee and hurries Bettine 
into the bedroom just as the other 
door is burst open and a troop of 
soldiers appear on the threshold, 
shouting and furious icith drink. 
They sing, with drunken gestures, 
in the doorway:) 
" Zum Rhein, zum Rhein, zum deutscher 
Rhein. . . ." 

First Soldier. 

Come on ! 

They're in that room. I saw them ! 

The only skirts 
Left in the village. Comrades, you've 

had your fun — 
It's time for ours. 

55 



RADA 

Brander. 
Clear out of this. You're drunk. 
We want to sleep. 

Second Soldier. 
Well, hand the women over. 

Tarrasch. 
There are no women here. 

First Soldier. 

You greedy wolf, 
I saw them. 

Nanko. 

Come ! Come ! Come ! It's Christmas 

Eve! 

Second Soldier. 

Well, if there are no petticoats, where's 

the harm 

In letting us poor soldiers take a 

squint 

56 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

Through yonder door? By God, we'll 

do it, too ! 
Come on, my boys. 

{They make a rush towards the 
room.) 

Nanko. 
Be careful, or you'll smash 
The Christmas-tree ! You'll smash the 
gramophone ! 

{A soldier tries the bedroom door. 
It is opened from within, and 
Rada appears on the threshold 
with the revolver in her hand.) 

First Soldier. 
Liars ! Liars ! 

Rada. 
There is one woman here, 
One woman and a child. . . . 
57 



RADA 

And war, they tell me, is a noble thing. 
It is the mother of heroic deeds, 
The nurse of honour, manhood. 

Second Soldier. 

God, a speech ! 

Nanko {ivho is hugging his Christmas- 
tree near the fire again.) 

Certainly, Rada ! You will not deny 
That life's a battle. 

Rada. 

You hear, drunk as you are, 
Up to your necks in blood, you hear 

this fool. 
This poor old fool, piping his dreary 

cry. 
And through his lips, and through his 
softening brain, 
58 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

The men that use you, cheat you, 

drive you out 
To slaughter and be slaughtered, teach 

the world 
That this black vampire, sucking at our 

breasts. 
Is good. Men ! Men ! The pestilence 

of your dead 
Is murdering you by legions. All the 

trains 
Of quicklime that your Emperor sends 

behind you 
Can never eat its way through all 

that flesh — 
Three hundred miles of dead ! Your 

dead ! 

First Soldier. 

Hoch ! Hoch ! 
A speech ! 

59 



RADA 

[They tnake a movement towards her, 
which she arrests by raising the 
revolver.) 

Rada. 

I do not hate ! I pity you all. 
I tell you, you are doing it in a dream. 
You are drugged. You are not awake. 

Nanko. 
I have sometimes thought 
The very same. 

Rada. 
But you will wake one day. 
Listen ! If you have children of your 

own, 
Listen to me . . . the child is twelve 

years old. 
She has never had one hard word 

spoken to her 
In all her life. 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

Second Soldier. 
Nor shall she now, by God ! 
Where is she ? Bring her out ! 

First Soldier. 
Twelve years of age? 
Add two, because her mother loves 

her so ! 
That's ripe enough for marriage to a 

soldier. 
{They laugh uproariously, and sing again 

mockingly :) 
" Zum Rhein, zum Rhein, zum deutscher 
Rhein!" 

{They move forivard again.) 

Rada {raising the revolver). 
One word. If you are deaf to honour, 

blind 
To truth, and if compassion cannot 
reach you, 

61 



RADA 

Then I appeal to fear ! Yes, you shall 

fear me. 
Listen! I heard, when I was in that 

room, 
A sound like gun-fire, coming from the 

south : 
What if it were the British ? 

Soldiers. 

Ah ! The swine ! 
The dogs ! 

Rada. 
Bull-dogs ; and slow. But they are 

coming, 
And, where they hold, they never will 

let go. 
Though they may come too late for 

me and mine, 
You are on your trial now before the 

world. 

62 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

You never can escape it. They are 

coining, 
With justice and the unconquerable law ! 
I warn you, though their speech is not 

my own. 
And I shall be but one of all the dead, 
Dead, with that child, in a forgotten 

grave — 
I speak for them, and they will keep 

my word. 
Yes, if you harm that child . . . the 

British. ... Ah! 

{They advance towards her.) 
I have one bullet for the child and five 
To share between you and myself. 

First Soldier. 

Come on ! 
She can't shoot ! Look at the way she's 

holding it ! 
Duck down, and make a rush for it. 
63 



RADA 

Soldiers. 

Come on ! 

{They make a rush. Rada ste'ps 
hack into the bedroom and shuts 
the door in their faces.) 

Second Soldier. 

Locked out in the cold. Come, break 
the damned thing down ! 

Bettine {crying ivithin). 

O British ! British ! Come ! Come 
quickly, British ! 

Brander (trying to interpose). 

She'll keep her word. You'll never get 
'em alive. 

Tarrasch. 
Never. I know that kind. You'd better 
clear out. 

64 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

First Soldier. 

Down with the door ! 

{They put their shoulders to it. 
Brander makes a sign to Tarrasch 
They try to pull the men hack. 
There is a scuffle and Brander is 
knocked over. He rises with the 
blood running down his face, while 
Tarrasch still struggles. The door 
begins to give. A shot is heard 
within. The men pause and there 
is another shot.) 

Brander. 

By God, she's done it ! 

{There is a booming of distant 
artillery.) 

Hear ! 
She was not lying. That came from the 
south-west. 
p 65 



RADA 

It is the British ! 

{A bugle-call sounds in the village 
street.) 

Tarrasch. 

The British ! A night-attack ! 

{They all I'ush out except Nanko, 
who peers after them from the door. 
Leaving it open to the night, he 
takes a marron glace frotn the table, 
crosses the room, and begins to 
examine the gramophone. 

Confused sounds of men rushing 
to arms, thin bugle-calls in the 
distance, and the occasional clatter 
of a galloping horse bloiv in fi'om the 
blackness framed in the open door. 
The deep pulsation of the British 
artillery is heard throughout, in 
a steady undertone.) 
66 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

Nanko {calling aloud as he munches). 

Come, Rada, you're pretending. They're 
all gone. 

Rada, these marrons glaces are delicious. 

It's over now ! Come, I don't think it's 
right 

To spoil a person's pleasure on Christ- 
mas Eve. 

(He tiptoes to the door and peers into 
the night.) 

Come quick, Bettine, rockets are going 
up ! 

They are breaking into clusters of green 
stars ! 

Oh, there's a red one ! You could see 
for miles 

When that one broke. The willow- 
trees jumped out 
67 



RADA 

Like witches ; and, between them, the 

canal 
Dwindled away to a little thread of 

blood. 
And there were lines of men running 

and falling. 
And guns and horses floundering in a 

ditch. 
Oh, Rada ! there's a bonfire by the mill. 
They've burned the little cottage. 

There's a man 
Hanging above the bonfire by his hands. 
And heaps of dead all round him. 

Come and see ! 
It's terrible, but it's magnificent, 
Like one of Goya's pictures. That's 

the way 
He painted war. Well, everybody's 

gone. . . . 
To think / was the fittest, after all ! 
68 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

{He returns to the gramophone.) 

I wonder how this gramophone does 

work. 
He said the tune that he was putting 

in 
Was just the thing for Christmas Eve. 

I wonder, 
1 wonder what it was. Listen to this ! 

{He reads the title.) 

It's a good omen, Rada — A Christmas 

carol 
Sung by the Gi^and Imperial Choir — 

d' you hear? — 
At midnight in St. Petersburg — Adeste 
Fideles ! Fancy that ! A Christmas 

carol 
Upon the gramophone ! 
So all the future ages will be sure 
To know exactly what religion was. 
69 



RADA 

To think we must not hear it ! Rada, 

they say 
The Angel Gabriel composed that tune 
On the first Christmas Eve. So don't 

you think 
That we might hear it? 
Everybody is gone, except the dead. 
It will not wake them. . , . 
Come, Rada, you're pretending ! Do 

not make 
The war more dreadful than it really is. 

{He accidentally sets the gramophone 
working and jurnps back, a little 
alarmed. He runs to the bedroom, 
door.) 

Rada ! I've started it ! Bettine, d' you 

hear? 
The gramophone's working. 

{The artillery booms like a thunder- 
70 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

peal in the distance. Then the 
gramophone drowns it with the 
massed voices of the hnperial Choir 
singing :) 

Adeste Fideles, 
l^ti triumphantes, 

Adeste, adeste in Bethlehem ! 

Natum videte 

Regem angelorum : 

Venite, adoremus, 

Venite, adoremus, 

Venite, adoremus Dominum. 

(Nanko touches the floor under the 
door of the bedroom and starves at 
his hand.) 

Nanko. 

Something red again ? Trickling under 

the door ? 
Blood, I suppose. . . . 
71 



RADA 

{A look of horror comes into his face 
as he stands listening to the music. 
Then, as if slowly ivaking from a 
dream, and almost as if sanity 
had returned for a 7nome7it, he 
cries :) 

It's true ! It's true ! Rada, I am 

awake ! 
I am awake ! And, in the name of 

Christ, 
I accuse, I accuse . . . O God, forgive 

us all ! 

{He falls on his knees by the bed- 
room door and calls, as if to the 
dead within :) 

Awake, and after nineteen hundred 

years. . . . 
Bettine, Bettine ! the British, they are 

coming ! 

72 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

Rada, you said it — they are coming 
quickly ! 

They are coining, with the reign of 
right and law. 

But, O Bet tine ! Bettine ! will they re- 
member ? 

Are they awake ? I only hear their 
guns. 

What if they should grow used to it, 
Bettine, 

And fail to wipe this horror from the 
world ? 

God, is there any hope for poor man- 
kind ? 

God, are Thy little nations and Thy 
weak, 

Thine innocent, condemned to hell for 
ever? 

God, will the strong deliverers break 
the sword 

73 



RADA 

And bring this world at last to Christ- 
mas Eve ? 

The Imperial Choir. 

^TERNi Parentis 

Splendorem Sternum, 
Velatum sub carne videbimus, 

Deum infantem, 

Pannis involutum, 
Venite, adoremus, 
Venite, adoremus, 
Venite, adoremus Dominum. 

Nanko. 
Will Christ be born, oh, not in Beth- 
lehem, 
But in the soul of man, the abode of 

God? 
There, in that deep, undying soul of man 
(I still believe it), that immortal soul, 
74 



A BELGIAN CHRISTMAS EVE 

Will they lift up the cross with Christ 

upon it, 
The Fool of God, whom intellectual 

fools, 
The little fools of dust, in every land, 
Grinning their What is Truth ? still 

crucify. 
Could they not thrust their hands into 

His wounds? 
His wounds are these — these dead are 

all His wounds. 
Bettine ! Bettine ! the British, they are 

coming ! 
But you are silent now, so silent now ! 
Will they lift up God's poor old broken 

Fool, 
And sleep no more until His kingdom 

come, 
His infinite kingdom come ? 

Will they remember? 
75 



RADA 

[He hows his head against the closed 
door, zvhile the gramophone lifts 
the chorus of the Impei'ial Choir 
over the deepening thunder of the 
guns :) 

Nunc cantet, exultans, 

Chorus angelorum, 

Cantet nunc aula celestium 

Gloria, Gloria, 

In excelsis Deo ! 

Venite, adoremus, 

Venite, adoremus, 

Venite, adoremus Dominum. 



76 



INTERCESSION 

Now the muttering gun-fire dies, 

Now the night has cloaked the slain, 
Now the stars patrol the skies, 

Hear our sleepless prayer again ! 
They who work their country's will, 
Fight and die for Britain still, 
Soldiers, but not haters, know 
Thou must pity friend and foe. 

Therefore hear, 
Both for foe and friend, our prayer. 

Thou whose wounded Hands do reach 
Over every land and sea, 

77 



INTERCESSION 

Thoughts too deep for human speech 

Rise from all our souls to Thee ; 
Deeper than the wrath that burns 
Round our hosts when day returns; 
Deeper than the peace that fills 
All these trenched and waiting hills. 

Hear, O hear ! 
Both for foe and friend, our prayer. 



Pity deeper than the grave 

Sees, beyond the death we wield. 

Faces of the young and brave 
Hurled against us in the field. 

Cannon-fodder ! They must come. 

We must slay them, and be dumb, 

Slaughter, while we pity, these 

Most implacable enemies. 
Master, hear, 

Both for foe and friend, our prayer. 
78 



INTERCESSION 

They are blind, as we are blind, 
Urged by duties past reply. 

Ours is but the task assigned ; 
Theirs to strike us ere they die. 

Who can see his country fall ? 

Who but answers at her call? 

Who has power to pause and think 

When she reels upon the brink ? 
Hear, O hear, 

Both for foe and friend, our prayer. 

Shield them from that bitterest lie 
Laughed by fools who quote their 
mirth. 
When the wings of death go by 

And their brother shrieks on earth. 
Though they clamp their hearts with 

steel, 
Conquering evei^y fear they feel. 
There are dreams they dare not tell. 
79 



INTERCESSION 

Shield, O shield, their eyes from hell. 

Father, hear, 
Both for foe and friend, our prayer. 

Where the naked bodies burn, 

Where the wounded toss at home. 

Weep and bleed and laugh in turn, 
Yes, the masking jest may come. 

Let him jest who daily dies. 

But O hide his haunted eyes. 

Pain alone he might control. 

Shield, O shield his wounded soul. 
Master, hear, 

Both for foe and friend, our prayer. 

Peace ? We steel us to the end. 

Hope betrayed us, long ago. 
Duty binds both foe and friend. 

It is ours to break the foe. 
Then, O God ! that we might break 
This red Moloch for Thy sake ; 
80 



INTERCESSION 

Know that Truth indeed prevails, 
And that Justice holds the scales. 

Father, hear. 
Both for foe and friend, our prayer. 

England, could this awful hour, 
Dawning on thy long renown, 

Mark the purpose of thy power. 

Crown thee with that mightier 
crown ! 

Broadening to that purpose climb 

All the blood-red wars of Time. . . . 

Set the struggling peoples free, 

Crown with Law their Liberty ! 
England, hear, 

Both for foe and friend, our prayer ! 

Speed, O speed what every age 

Writes with a prophetic hand. 
Read the midnight's moving page, 
« 81 



INTERCESSION 

Read the stars and understand : 
Out of Chaos ye shall draw 
Deepening harmonies of Laic, 
Till around the Eternal Sun 
All your peoples move in one. 

Christ-God, hear, 
Both for foe and friend, our prayer. 



82 



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